Rasti's Flight
by Interstellar Taco Inc
Summary: The decision to leave Aiur is a difficult one, as is adjustment to a new life.  With the help of the people she had been taught were violent, unruly beasts, a young ex-Templar finds her place.
1. Chapter 1

Rasti hadn't planned on stealing a ship―it had just happened. It wasn't really a "ship," anyway―more like a small cargo tow, a two-room ship just big enough to drag large boxes of whatever to their freighter companions. One on another world would compare them to tugboats. It had been unguarded―after all, who would steal a ship? Not a fellow protoss. Even Rasti didn't know she was going to steal it until she had slipped inside and actually got a feel for the controls. It had been sheer luck and the fact that no one had ever done such a thing that she had gotten away.

Then again, Rasti really didn't know anything anymore. She didn't know who she was, really. She knew who she had been, but... that seemed like a whole lifetime ago, like she was looking at another person entirely.

She knew she had been a Templar-in-training. She had been brave, and zealous in her devotion to the Khala and the Conclave―a fitting beginning to one who would be a Zealot. She had been stubborn and quick to anger, but no more so than any other of the students in her class; those who had not yet mastered their infamous protoss battle-rage. Rasti had been one of the top of her class, just below only one other student, a male with whom she had a friendly rivalry.

That was a long time ago. Rasti remembered these things, but could not relate. They were there, in her own mind and thus the Khala, drifting for all to see. The Khala that others attempted to reach her over and over again. The female closed off her mind, turning away from those who begged for her to return. She couldn't do it.

She put her head in her hands. Between her past life and the flashes of horrible memory that served as a three-year-gap to the present, she was a very different person. She had to drop out of the Templar training. She had to bear the disgrace of being terrified by everything, and the disappointment (cleverly masked, but still there) of her family.

She remembered when the boy from her class (his name, his name, what was his name again?) stopping by to visit, his fierce face gentled in concern, and she had screamed in terror because he had slipped up behind her and touched her; the _male _had _touched _her without her consent and he had rocketed back as she fell to the floor and curled up in a fetal position.

He never visited again.

The humiliation was too great. Rasti wished she could just disappear. So Rasti had stolen a ship, and had disappeared into the great beyond before the fleet could scramble up a ship to head after her. And now she didn't know where she was, and the power was slowly dying, and the air was getting stale. Rasti's dark brown skin was mottled and looked as if she were covered with dust, a telltale sign of poor health.

She had stopped trying to pilot the ship a long time ago. Now she was adrift, and would die soon, and she didn't care.

He had called his ship _West of Winter_ as a joke. 

He was not terribly old by protoss standards, but he had seen more strange sights in his relatively few years than most full-grown Khalai protoss had in their entire lifetimes. It was the nature of his people to travel, and he had always had a tendency to walk a few steps farther out than his companions. In space, that translated to a relatively lonely existence, but such was the way of the Nerazim.

The joke had arisen over the course of several months, while he and a small team from his relatively modest tribe were exploring an alien world. It was habitable, but dreadfully cold. Still, there had been a sun, and they had drank deeply of its life-giving nourishment while they were there. Sometimes he would wander off in the direction of the setting sun, unconsciously following the brilliant flaming orb until it fell out of sight.

One of his companions had laughed and called to him. "Are you trying to follow it? Maybe it will lead us somewhere warmer than here."

He had smiled the way all protoss do, by tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. "Maybe. Perhaps it's warm where the sun goes to sleep every evening."

"Somewhere west of winter," one of the other team-members had chimed in.

Since that day, on their expeditions, the phrase "west of winter" had come to be synonymous with a place better than wherever they happened to be, their proverbial greener pastures. They had eventually gone their separate ways, pursuing their individual quest for knowledge or joining other bands of explorers, and as he was wont to do, he struck out on his own.

His ship was small, but serviceable, and the most ornery junk of junk he'd ever had the misfortune to serve upon. He was certain that no other protoss would ever learn all of the quirks necessary to pilot it without a two-hour lecture. So he'd given it an ironic name and had set off.

Truth be told, though the ship was old, prone to mechanical and electronic error, banged-up, and dingy, there really was nowhere else he'd rather be, so the name, in the end, suited it.

He was making his way to an field when the proximity alert chimed in the back of his head. There was a ship approaching. He blinked and accessed the scanner controls, recoiling in horror when he realized what sort of ship he'd stumbled upon.

It was Khalai. It had come from Aiur!

His first instinct was to make a stand and prepare to fight, but as he further scanned the ship to ready himself for battle, he soon saw the nature of its condition. The little tower was about to give out. It had been pushed nearly beyond its limits. He became further confused when he detected one weak life signature aboard the ship.

Well. 

This was a toughie.

He hunched over in his seat and drummed his claws on his thigh. Hm. It could be a trap.

Those Aiur-born were relentlessly prejudiced, that much he knew, but prejudiced or not, he couldn't stand here and let one of them just die. Proper procedure would have dictated that he hail the vessel first, but he simply brought his ship in closer and prepared to board it. He had lived far away from "proper procedure" perhaps a little too long.

The shuddering jolt of _West of Winter_'s docking clamps securing a hold on the shuttle were significant, and the squeal of the mechanism as it forced the cargo bay doors open would have pierced through nearly any stupor.

The mechanism was not exactly the same sort of technology as had been used to create the cargo vessel, but it was similar enough not to cause any trouble.

More than the vibration and the noise, though, the most palpable change in the little tugboat was the air. Cool, fresh air gushed into the tiny two-room vessel, preceding the arrival of the boarding ship's captain.

Inside, the female had ignored the chiming that signaled an approaching vessel. If the protoss had finally found her, there wasn't much she could do about it.

Part of her considered taking her own life to avoid further humiliation. That part died suddenly when the screeching noise of the doors stabbed through the air. Wait. Cargo bay doors didn't _squeal_. If the Templar had found her, they could simply order the doors open, and that would be it. But who else could be out here? Terrans?

The thought made her shudder. The aliens were new to this sector, but they were growing at a terrifying rate. What if...?

Dark Templar didn't even enter into the mix of her thoughts. They were so enigmatic, so few and far between, that the thought of one of them finding her was as possible to her mind as a fish teaching history―or, well, anything.

She found herself staring over her shoulder, wide-eyed, at the direction of the gushing air (gods, fresh air!) in tense preparation to what she would see.

It would have probably done Rasti good to be presented with a familiar face. Perhaps a tall, regal Templar stepping through the airlock, glittering with handsomely polished armor would have sufficed. What she got was Pazura.

He stepped cautiously onto the cargo deck, one arm half-raised. Bits of armor could be seen―the tell-tale bracer of a warp blade on his arm, a pair of impressive pauldrons―but mostly he was covered in lengths of cloth. The ragged ends trailed on the floor and dripped from his muscular, stooped frame, whispering as he cautiously took another step.

Half of his face was hidden by another long strip of cloth, as was the practice of some Nerazim tribes. His eyes were visible, and they burned a strange violet color in his face, the color of the edge of lightning. His crests were elongated, craggy, and ridged, and his nerve-cords had been neatly severed and secured with rather plain-looking clamps.

His skin was dark, rich gray. Needless to say, he was not necessarily a calming sight, with his intimidating features, his rugged frame, and the wraithlike covering of ragged cloth. He said nothing, halting when he saw Rasti. Instead he just stared at her, his posture defensive, wondering what the heck he was supposed to do next.

Rasti found herself disbelieving at first. Dark Templar. No, that couldn't be, her mind, her eyes were deceiving her. She closed them, opened them, and stared.

Then the fear hit.

It was not screaming fear. It was not fear that made her run and hide under something. It was fear that held her silent and frozen, half-twisted in the chair, her mind yelling at her to run. Fight. Do _something_.

The longer the Dark Templar stood there, the more terrified Rasti became. She began to shake, slightly at first, and then harder, and began to close in on herself, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Oh, gods. Oh, gods, it was a Dark Templar, he was going to take her and torture her and... and...

Pazura carefully watched her reaction, carefully lowered his arm, and then very, very carefully became very confused.

She was scared, and he supposed he could understand that. If a strange protoss barged its way into his ship, he would certainly not be happy to see them. The fact that she was alone, in this small ship, so far from home, only added to the mystery of her situation.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said after a few long moments of tense, confused silence. "I… you were running out of air. I came to investigate." He stood a little straighter. Aiur-born or not, she was still protoss, and she clearly needed assistance. "I'm here to help." 

Rasti's eyes only widened as he straightened, looming above her. Her body tensed so much she became a coiled spring, ready to bolt at any sudden movement. She said nothing for a long moment.

When words did form, they were sloppy and disjointed and jumbled, and barely made out to be "...Dark... Templar..."

"Pazura," he corrected. Maybe putting a name to the face would help. Probably, it wouldn't. The woman was obviously terrified, but it was the only thing he could think of to do. He didn't stop to think that she might be deeply disturbed. He just chalked up her reaction to the fact that she was Khalai, and he was Nerazim.

"My name," he went on, "is Pazura. Like I said, I was only worried." He hunched again, thoughtfully shifting his weight, but he didn't move any closer. He couldn't leave her here, and it didn't look as if she would willingly go anywhere. "What is your name?"

Rasti jumped slightly as he moved. Her thoughts swirled in confusion. Why was he asking? Why didn't he just take her name? She wasn't guarding her thoughts―the realization made her attempt to remember her training and close her mind, but she was just too frightened.

"Rasti," she heard herself say. Her body ached from the tenseness of the situation.

"All right," he said, and then, because he felt he should add something more, "nice to meet you, Rasti."

Pazura was not terribly good with people. He remained where he was, racking his brain for his next move. Assaulting her with a barrage of questions was probably not the right move, but it was the only thing he could think of to do. "Were you trying to get home? Are you lost? Are you sick?"

Seemingly realizing his mistake, he cut himself off and reached up under his cloth mask to scratch his cheek, a nervous gesture. "Your ship is not in the best of shape," he added.

The female was twitchy enough to jump again as he scratched himself. "Lost," she repeated, as if in a daze; she struggled to put together a sentence. "B-Both. All."

Not really a sentence. She looked away, then quickly back, both afraid to look at him and afraid to let him out of her sight.

Damn. She _was _trying to get home, then? That presented a pickle.

There was no way he could refuse to help her, not after seeing her like this, but escorting her back to Khalai-controlled territory was beyond risky.

If he was caught, he would be detained, questioned, and likely executed. He didn't know what to do about that.

But he could hazard a guess as to what he should do next. "You need water. Stay there." He turned and left her alone, disappearing back into his ship.

After a moment soft clattering noises could be discerned through the doorway. Once, there was a rather loud crash followed by a telepathic burst of frustration and mild pain, and a small sealed jar rolled onto the cargo floor. It had a slightly green tint to it, obviously cut from some manner of crystal, and was half-filled with white sand.

He reappeared, moving slowly and almost tripping over the jar. He picked it up in his free hand and took a cautious half-step forward. With his other hand, he held a simply, yet elegantly crafted vessel full of clean, clear water. He set it on the ground and backed away from it. "There."

He then turned his attention to the bottle of sand. Hmm. He'd been looking for that.

Rasti's eyes were diverted to the water immediately; she didn't move, however, until Pazura backed away. Only then did she shift over, her desire for water momentarily overcoming any fear, and she snatched the vessel, pulled it to her chest, and shoved both hands into it, head bowed in apparent relief. She said nothing for a while.

It was only after her body had greedily sucked up a third of the water when she whispered, "Dark Templar―they hurt people." It was tentatively firm, if there was such a thing; she was sure that that had been a part of her studies, but now he was helping her...

"And Khalai capture and kill Dark Templar," Pazura replied calmly, still turning the bottle over in his hands and watching the shifting of the fine sand. He looked up. "But you are not attempting to hurt me, and I wish you no harm. If I had wanted you dead, I could have left you. You would not have lasted long." 

He stopped turning the bottle over and cocked his head. "I do not take pleasure in seeing other protoss suffer. No matter how misguided."

Rasti could have argued that they captured and killed them because they were traitors, but she neither had the energy nor thought it was a good idea at this point. She didn't really care whether she lived or died at the moment, but she surprised herself with the sudden need for protoss company. Even a Dark Templar, who was assuredly just playing with her; just giving her hope...

"Oh," she said instead, staring down at the water.

For a few long moments Pazura just stayed there. Nervously, he reached up to scratch his cheek again, once, and after a while he began to fidget. He was utterly helpless as to what to do with a clearly-traumatized, malnourished stranger. "So you… lost your way?" He finally asked. "You are trying to return home? Back to Aiur?"

Rasti twitched. "No. No, not Aiur. Anywhere but Aiur." Her hearts ached to be at the place of her birth again, amongst friends and family, but she didn't belong there anymore. "It's... it's not my home. Anymore."

His craggy brow furrowed. "Oh." A pause. "Kind of relieved to hear that." He paused again, and hastily added, "I mean, not that it is not your home anymore, that does not sound very―I mean it just would have been dangerous and―well, fuck," he finished eloquently.

It might have been amusing to see such a socially awkward creature resided under that intimidating exterior. Rasti was not in any mood to appreciate it. "If you would like, I could leave you… some things. Water. Give your ship a little boost. But, well, I could… you could come along, if you want."

He didn't like the thought of just leaving her. It would nag at his conscience. "Or take you somewhere you _want _to go."

Rasti jerked her head up again, wide-eyed. Go with him? That Dark Templar? The thought was as terrifying as being left here alone again.

"Where... where would I go?" she asked, desperate for some sort of reassurance.

"To be honest, half of the time I do not even know where I am going," he admitted, "I do not entirely… know where you could go. If you are on the run, perhaps one of our colonies could take you in. If you could keep this thing running…"

He looked up at the roof and the walls of the cargo hold. "Maybe you could travel. Like me."

Pazura looked back to her. "But I will venture a guess that the concept of individual freedom is not really big with you Aiur types, is it?"

Rasti blinked. Was that a joke? Some sort of jab at her people? Whatever it was, she wasn't in the mood to entertain it, and simply stared at him, a slight crease forming between her brows and her mind exuding confusion.

"I... what?"

He scratched at his cheek again a little sheepishly. He really, really wasn't good at this. "Sorry," he added. 

For a moment he fell silent to collect his thoughts, hunching further down and narrowing his eyes in intense concentration. "I'm heading for an asteroid field. To explore it. Would you like to come with me? I'll power your ship from mine, and give you water. I also have a light you can use. It might not be much, but it'll keep you going."

The thought of being alone again frightened her almost as much as being with a Dark Templar. A large, intimidating _male _Dark Templar. The two fears warred in her mind, and she was silent for a good bit before simply giving a mental nod. To what she was nodding to, she didn't know, but... well... if she was going to die, then... what did it matter?

Pazura watched her for a moment before he acknowledged. "Well. Okay then. I'll… bring you the light."

He carefully stepped forward and disappeared into the doorway joining their ships. When he returned, he was bearing a small device.

It was housed in a dark green rock mottled with delicate black patterns, and a single clear, glowing crystal rested in the center. "We can live off the light of the stars, for the most part, but sometimes we go a while without finding anyplace suitable. So... this should be enough for you. I hope. Let me know if it isn't."

He set it on the ground next to where the water had been. As he stepped closer, Rasti noticed small details about his armor and clothing that she did not previously―the inlaid designs on his armor had a curious pearly sheen, and small seashells had been embroidered into some of the less-battered lengths of cloth. His entire garb had a decidedly nautical flair to it.

"If you need anything, just call for me. My ship's small. I'll probably hear you." He backed up. "Are you… going to be okay?"

Rasti stared down at the device, then back up at him.

"C-Can I ride with you?" she blurted suddenly, thighs tightening on the vessel of water. She fell quiet immediately, and ducked her head.

"Uh." He shifted uncertainly. "If you want to." The proposition made him obviously slightly nervous. He didn't fully trust her, even if she seemed helpless. He scratched his cheek anxiously. "I mean, I don't really have any place where you could… it's, uh, a little cluttered."

He bent down and picked up the light. "But sure, if you want. Follow me." He turned and began to lead the way back to his ship. His instincts screamed against turning his back on her, but he did anyway. He had to show at least a little amount of trust if he wanted any in return.

After some stumbling, Rasti followed. Her own mind was screaming at her to not follow such a fallen man, especially into his lair, but the desperation she had been feeling the entire time kept her going. Her legs were weak and shaky, but she made do.

It was darker in his ship, much darker. She froze in the doorway, casting her gaze back and forth; her nerve-cords were tense with fear. Darkness was one of the many, many things she was afraid of.

"It's dark," her mental whisper reached him tentatively.

"Yes," he replied. He looked over his shoulder and set the light down. "The ship's kind of… old. Give me a moment." He turned and vanished fluidly into the shadows, as was his birthright, and was gone for a few moments. Then a set of blue emergency lights flickered on the floor and the walls, died, flared again, and finally settled into a dim, steady blue glow.

It was less like walking into a ship and more like walking into the bastard child of a museum and a bazaar. There were shelves along all of the walls, most of them with a protective glimmer around them, likely to keep the hundreds of various knickknacks from flying everywhere. The shelves were littered with unusual-looking rocks, carved figurines, exotic shells, and myriad other objects which perched on the shelves or were scattered about the floor.

There were polished yellowed bones, obviously from some small animal, a case of carefully preserved lepidopteron insects, bushels of dried flowers and herbs, books, mysterious leather satchels, bundles of cloth, a few dusty-looking scrolls, and, in one corner, a large, toothy feline skull.

Things hung from the ceilings and the walls―scraps of cloth, some of it as old and tattered as Pazura's garb, and some of it carefully cleaned and preserved. There were strings of hollow gourds, inside which various objects had been stowed.

There were small lamps, most of them burnt out. There were more than a few gracefully-crafted wind chimes, most of them sharing the same nautical theme that was displayed on Pazura's clothing.

Strings of beads of all sorts―glass, bone, metal, coral, wood―hung on strings from the ceiling. A display on the far wall housed an impressive-looking battle staff. There were bottle-shaped vessels of water stowed away randomly in every nook and cranny. On one wall, there was an untidy pile of various objects that looked as if they all had fallen from a broken shelf above.

Through it all Pazura came trudging back somewhat sheepishly. "A little cluttered," he reiterated, which turned out to be the understatement of the century.

The blue lights seemed harsh to Rasti; she cringed from them and their bloodlike glow almost as much as she had cringed from the darkness. Her eyes were drawn to the ceiling―was that bone? How morbid!―and she considered bolting back to the comfortingly known interior of her own stolen vessel. But she had been alone there.

She remained in the hatchway, blue-white gemfire eyes darting around nervously. "Yes," she managed.

He watched her for a few moments longer. She really was terrified. "Well, you're going to need a place to stay. Second deck'll do." Pazura found it to be the second-most calming place on the ship, not counting his personal quarters. He moved through the clutter with the nimble ease of one used to living in such haphazard confines and opened a hatch in the floor.

A device somewhat like a ladder―but with only a single rung in the middle―was extended, and he used this as a foothold as he easily dropped himself to the floor. "I keep the plants down here," he mentally informed her from below. He then began to self-conscious clean the floor of the room, brushing away the detritus that had gathered there.

Once Rasti went to investigate, she found a room nearly the size of the one she was standing in. The four walls were dotted with plants. The racks designed to hold them were mostly bare, but the few plants that resided there were well-taken care of, and made the air tingle pleasantly against one's skin with their lush, curiously _green_ aroma.

"Or would you rather stay up there?" He walked to the open hatch and peered up.

Rasti stared down at the hole. From this angle, it was even darker than the deck she was currently standing on. She scrambled to get a hold of her thoughts, and could only manage a miserable, "It's dark," before closing her eyes in embarrassment (and then quickly opening them, afraid to have them closed for long).

"The plants are night-bloomers," he explained. "But…" rather than finish his sentence, he turned and trotted off into the shadows. After a few moments, there was a flicker of brightness, and then a wan, green-yellow light filled the room below. It was still dim, but considerably brighter than before.

Pazura reappeared, squinting against the light. This would send two of his specimens into hibernation mode, but it wasn't as if he needed them for his survival. He kept them for other reasons. "Better?" His mental voice carried neither annoyance nor any patronizing tone.

Rasti let out another weak mental nod before forcing herself to move, putting one foot on the single rung and hopping down with a single forced, quick movement.

She looked up directly into the face of the Nerazim standing before her and couldn't help it: a blast of fear sent her scuttling backwards, behind the latter and against the wall.

Pazura was looking over his shoulder at the plants as she descended, and turned just in time to come face-to-face with her. He gave a startled jerk back a single step, his body tense and ready, as she scrambled away. He blinked after the thrill had passed, and then promptly felt very foolish for overreacting.

Nervously, he scratched his cheek. "Well. Is this… suitable? I can bring you bedding. And water." A pause. "And the light."

The woman let out a scrambled positive thought, and had she any form of lungs she would be hyperventilating. Her skin was terribly mottled. And now, she had begun to weep, an automatic response to the sudden fright. She fought against it. She wouldn't cry in front of the (sworn enemy?) Dark Templar!

"Yes," she said again, this time managing words.

Pazura's eyes widened. He still didn't trust this creature. For all he knew, she could be tagging his vessel for some kind of ambush. She was, after all, one of the Khalai. But she was a _female__,_ and she was _crying,_ and it tugged at his hearts to see her so upset.

His first instinct was to comfort her, but obviously he frightened her. "Okay. I'll be right back." He moved carefully for the ladder and then swung easily up and over the rim. He was gone for a full fifteen minutes.

When he returned, he had taken his armor off, even the warp blade generator (this was meant to be a gesture of trust, but really, he didn't think he would need it to deal with her). He was still largely covered by scraps of cloth, and had donned a somewhat-battered robe. His face was still covered. Whether this was a sign of lingering mistrust or just habit was uncertain.

He had a bottle of water in one hand and a bedroll over his shoulder, and the light in the other. He trotted to the corner of the room opposite where Rasti was cowering and spread the bedroll, and then the small, but soft-looking sheet that had been rolled inside. He set the water down by the bed, and then the light by the water, creating a small sanctuary of brightness for her.

He looked over to her silently, and after a moment, he said, "I get nervous sometimes, too. Over… various things." He reached into one of the folds of his voluminous clothing and drew out a small leather bag. "Certain herbs, when crushed and mixed with water, can be soothing. This mixture helps me relax, but it doesn't make me sleepy. If you need help sleeping, I have one of those, too." He set it down, allowing her to make the decision of whether or not she wanted to take the mixture. "But, uh, only if you need it."

He knew that he likely wouldn't, if their positions were reversed, and he'd been picked up by a Khalai vessel. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" He scratched nervously at his cheek again.

She stared up at him, then down at the bag, then back up at him, afraid to look away. A part of her knew this was foolish; she should never have accepted this Fallen One's help... but gods, without him, she would be alone, and that was even more terrifying than being stuck on a ship with him.

"No," she said after a moment, then manners dictated that she say something more, and she mumbled, "Thank you."

He nodded. "Very well. I'll leave it in case you change your mind." And with that, he left her. He kept the hatch open, in case she wanted to leave the bay. He considered going to his room, but the question of what to do with her hung heavy on his mind. He had woken from his last sleep-cycle to a world he understood. He had a ship, a hunger for travel, and a destination.

But now?

Pazura didn't know what to do next, and that very fact dictated what he did next. He sighed and strode through the clutter of his ship to the main control panel on the bridge. It only took a single hand gesture and a few concentrated thoughts to change his course, so he was only there for a moment.

His actions, however, would change more than just the course of the ship.

He needed guidance, and he knew just where to turn for that. He would catch some sleep before they arrived, though―maybe this problem would be easier to tackle after a few hours' worth of sleep.

He retreated to his room, where he shed all of his various and sundry articles of ragged clothing. He paused before collapsing to bar the door. Vulnerable or not, he didn't trust her. Then he curled up and went to sleep.

Rasti thought she would not be able to sleep. On a strange ship, with a _Dark Templar _of all creatures, made her believe she wouldn't get sleep for days. But she was in a cuccoon of blankets, and in a comforting sphere of softly glowing light, and she was tired, so tired. She did end up sleeping, curled on her side with her back pressed warily to the wall.


	2. Chapter 2

Faal'dar was an older protoss, but not the oldest one out there. Even so, he was beyond most in age and had a teacher's intellect, which drew younger protoss under his wing. He was patient and wise, and an excellent fighter, and all in all the perfect person to go to when one had a problem.

Those associated with him called him "Pyjas," or "Uncle," as he never gave the air of being a grandfather though he was certainly old enough to be one.

He tried not to hold favorites, but it was difficult when he had so many students.

Pazura was one of them.

The boy walked to the beat of his own drum, and Faal'dar liked that. He was bright and a good warrior, but never let it get to his head: he was intellectual and sought his own answers rather than wait for them to come to him.

So when he received a message saying Pazura needed his help, he was intrigued.

The small station was built on a very large asteroid, almost moon-sized, and Faal'dar lead his team and taught students there. It was quiet and out-of-the-way, as most Nerazim outposts were, but fairly state-of-the-art and could somehow hold a large amount of protoss.

He stood in the observation deck, watching the silent dark void stretch out before him, falling in and out of meditation as he waited. He could stand there for a very long time, utterly still, as many elder Nerazim were able.

Pazura didn't sleep for long, and he was well awake by the time they neared the asteroid. _West of Winter_ approached and docked with practiced ease, and its captain and former sole inhabitant's first priority was to meet with the technicians operating in the area about the nature of the cargo vessel still firmly clamped to his.

Rasti still seemed to be asleep, and Pazura decided that now would be a good time to warn the docking officials that he had a jumpy Khalai aboard, as well as inquire as to the whereabouts of wise old Faal. The Protoss standing outside wasn't a technician. He knew that because he recognized her.

Immediately he smiled. "Nthari! What are you doing here?"

"Good to see you, too, Paz," she cuffed him. Most protoss, upon meeting Pazura, assumed that he was not the most capable of warriors.

He had a tendency to be gentle and thoughtful outside of battle, and in everyday situations, wasn't necessarily the most... coordinated person. This worked to his advantage when he needed it to. Nthari would not have been able to catch her enemies unawares, because, despite her smaller stature, she looked dangerous.

And dangerous she was. Combat-wise, she had always been a step above Pazura. They were something like friends and something like rivals, and had been ever since they were young. She was lean and dark―all hard curves covered tautly with pale purple-gray skin―and was almost never seen without at least some of her armor. He cuffed her back, and after a moment this dissolved into a bit of good-natured tussling.

Nobody could accuse them of being disrespectful, but it was hard to be darkly graceful and serene when in the presence of old friends. "So," Nthari said once she had Pazura in a headlock, "You brought a prize? Some salvage?"

The larger male nodded awkwardly. "More than that, I'm afraid. Let me show you."

He led her inside and nodded to the open portal in the floor. She crouched down and blinked widely. "You found… a protoss."

"Yep."

She cocked her head. "Well, she's pretty. I'll give you that, Paz."

"Look at her nerve-cords," Paz suggested. Nthari narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. It was hard to tell with Rasti's back to the wall, but eventually she noticed the length of the appendages in question and jerked back as if the sight had stung her.

"Yep," Pazura said again. "Khalai. That's why I'm here. To talk to Uncle Faal. I don't really know what to do with her. She's not... _well,_ I think."

"Oh." There was a healthy bit more suspicion in Nthari's bearing now. She cocked her head. "If anyone can help, he can."

"Yeah. Would you mind watching over her while I go see him? I don't think it's a good idea for her to be alone. She's… jumpy." 

"Okay." Nthari sat on the edge of the trap-door and let her legs hang down into the room below. Carefully, she untied the cloth that had been concealing the lower half of her face. Her features were angular. She was reasonably attractive, but harshly so, wickedly so. "She isn't going to freak out, is she?"

"I hope not," Pazura sighed. "Thanks. I owe you one." He patted her shoulder, and she nodded, keeping her eyes on her new charge.

–

While Nthari babysat his unusual cargo, Pazura went to find Faal. The technicians he spoke with regarding the cargo vessel told him where Faal had last been seen, which was the observation deck. Pazura approached the elder in respectful silence, calmly waiting to be acknowledged.

Faal'dar's hunched figure presently shifted, and he straightened and turned around to face Pazura. He was not surprised to see him there. He likely knew he had been standing there since he arrived.

He was fairly large and muscular, with sharp sinews standing out on his neck and arms. In darkness, he looked at least very dark gray, but in the light upon closer inspection his skin, breaking into scales, shown lightly purple. His eyes held a hint of yellow.

He smiled, his head tilting automatically and eyes crinkling. "En taro Adun, student. I trust your studies have gone well since we last met."

"En taro Adun," Pazura replied respectfully. He relaxed a little―he was always stiff the first few moments with Faal, and he always unfailingly loosened up after those awkward moments had passed. "Indeed, sir." Normally this was the part where he would begin to tell Faal about the new plants he'd discovered, or some strange, otherworldly sight he had seen that had impressed itself upon his memory. He would begin formally, but enthusiasm would win him over and before he knew it he'd be gushing like a child.

Instead, he shifted awkwardly, and said, "I have… a problem. I found someone. A Khalai. She was just… adrift, her ship was failing, I didn't know what else to do. She's on my ship right now." Confusion was speeding his thoughts now where his enthusiasm would have normally done so, and he blurted on, "I think she might have problems, mental problems, she's been acting so strangely. I have Nthari watching over her now, but I don't know what to do next."

Faal'dar's heavy brows furrowed slowly as Pazura went on, and clasped his hands behind his back. He did not speak, but the flow of information was much faster than a vocal creature trying to communicate. It was only a minute before he replied, his voice laden with concern and gentle reproach. "You should have spared the energy and called upon Shakuras for the elders to take care of this woman, or perhaps gone to the planet yourself. I trust your judgment, and agree that her needs must not be ignored. But please, be careful when it comes to the Khalai.

"That said, we must see to this woman immediately. Take me to her."

Pazura nodded. Faal's advice and gentle reprimand did not hurt his pride. He knew that he was out of his element, here. He turned and led the way, turning his concentration inward. He would take Faal's advice to heart; Rasti seemed harmless on all accounts, but he couldn't be sure of it. Even if she didn't directly cause him harm, she could still be the key to some sort of Aiur-born trap.

Said woman, however, had other plans. She had begun to wake up, and upon feeling the protoss presence watching over her let out a sleepy telepathic greeting. This was before she woke up further and realized just who and what was watching her, and jerked upright, fear blasting through her mind. The Dark Templar watching her was even more frightening than the other, and the fact that she was female was only a mild comfort as she scrambled back, clutching the light-crystal tightly to her chest.

Nthari watched her wake and didn't move. She communicated with Rasti as best as she could from her perch on the lip of the porthole. "It's okay. I'm not going down there. You've got nothing to be afraid of." She had thought that, when the time came, she would know what to say, but she found herself now floundering for a means to comfort the strange female.

"So… you're okay?" She was only slightly more eloquent than Pazura.

"Where's the other one?" Rasti managed, jerking her head around in a vain attempt to find Pazura. Pazura frightened her just as much, but she had met him first, and... well there really was no reason that she wanted the other Dark Templar. She just did.

"You mean Paz? He went to get some help. We're… uh, trying to figure out what to do with you." Realizing that that sounded menacing, she hastily added, "I mean, to help you."

Nthari had thought that someday she would meet a Khalai, and that she and her destined foe would fight a great and terrible battle. She had never thought it would be like… this. It was confusing. "He'll be back soon."

On the heels of that thought, the airlock's door hissed open and Pazura stepped in, accompanied by Faal'dar. "Everything okay?"

"She's up, Paz, and asking for you," Nthari said, pulling her legs up and stepping away from the porthole. The male blinked in confusion, but obligingly crouched down by the porthole and looked inside.

"Are you all right?"

"Where are we?" Rasti croaked. "I th-thought you s-said you were going to a... to an asteroid belt!"

Faal'dar waited silently for them to finish the conversation. If it calmed her down, so be it. If not, he would step in.

"That was my original intention, yes, but I didn't feel it appropriate." He paused, and then stepped down the one-rung ladder to enter the room. He didn't go any closer to her, though. "Firstly, after we had gone, we would have had to come here anyway, and you obviously need… help. It didn't seem right to postpone a visit here to get some of that for you, just because I wanted to visit the belt." Only now they would have to go yet elsewhere for that help.

"I probably should have told you first," he conceded, reaching to to scratch his cheek under his cloth mask. "But you were asleep. And also, I didn't even think about it. I apologize."

Nthari stepped back from the hole so that he couldn't see her smile and clamped down on her mental mirth.

The elder standing next to her flicked a glance at the other and firmly directed her out of the small vessel. Rasti was obviously frightened of Nerazim, and it would not do to have more then necessary crowded around her. "Go, and receive Shakuras. Request a Prelate and tell them we have found a Khalai."

Nthari nodded respectfully and trotted off to obey. 

Rasti was calming slowly, but was still very frightened. "But... where... where are we?"

"A small station. I mainly came here to see him." He gestured upwards, but Faal had walked away from the porthole. "Uh. I mean, I came here to see someone… not sure where he went, just now, but he is very wise, and I needed advice. It's a very nice station, actually."

He wanted to invite her to see it, but he was unsure that was prudent. Not only did he lack the authority, if this really was an act―and it didn't feel like one, but he wouldn't put anything past the Aiur-born―he didn't want to put the station's population in danger.

"We'll likely be going to Shakuras next. I imagine they'll… know what to do. To help you. Find you a place to stay. You still don't want to go home?"

"Sh-Shakuras?" Rasti had no idea what that was. No Khalai did. "No, I... I can't go back to... no. No."

Faal'dar reappeared at the porthole, and calmly swung down, landing quietly next to Pazura. Rasti's eyes got huge and she looked about to panic, but the elder protoss crouched down, exuding serenity. Despite his largeness and overall intimidating looks, his eyes and mind were gentle. He obviously knew how to deal with frightened individuals, because his mannerisms almost immediately calmed her. "Adun toridas, Rasti. My name is Faal'dar."

"Adun... en taro Adun," Rasti replied. _Adun hide us_? What kind of greeting was that?

The elder simply smiled. "There is no reason to be afraid, young one. No one here will harm you."

"Y-You're Dark Templar."

"Nerazim," he corrected gently. "We are Nerazim. Despite what you have learned, we are not evil, nor are we but mere animals. We are simply protoss."

"Oh," the woman replied faintly.

Faal'dar did not move toward her, but folded in on himself, kneeling down and making himself smaller. He mentally prodded Pazura to do the same. "What are you doing so far from home, young one?"

Rasti looked away. Embarrassment clouded her mind. "I... I ran away."

"I see."

She looked back up. "What's Shakuras?"

"Shakuras is the Nerazim world, where we gathered after our banishment so many millenia ago." He folded his hands, then made an obvious effort not to lecture. "You will be safer there than you would ever be here."

"Oh." Rasti looked at Pazura, unconsciously seeking his comfort, as well.

Pazura hunched down, himself. Given his posture, it wasn't terribly hard, and he watched, glancing from Faal to Rasti and back again as they spoke. Faal was really very much better at this than he was, but that was why he'd come here, after all.

"Shakuras is wonderful," was his quiet reply. "It is… quiet, and very dark. It is our home world, and most Nerazim live there." He did love Shakuras. He was born there, but deep down, Pazura was a wanderer. No single place had ever felt like home to him, with the exception of his much-battered, beloved ship. He did what he could to bury these thoughts for Rasti's sake.

Nthari, meanwhile, had gained access to a communications terminal, and was currently doing what she could to raise the planet in question. She informed the first face that appeared of their predicament, and, eyes widening, he informed her that he would be back with his superior. Nthari nodded and patiently waited.

Rasti's eyes widened at the description of the shadowy planet. Quiet and dark seemed horrifying to her. She loved the light, and people around her. Being alone in the dark brought back half-forgotten memories of... of...

Sensing her turmoil, Faal'dar spoke up. "You do not need to be alone, nor in the dark. There are plenty of lights there for you." Actually, Nerazim were infamous for taking their nourishment from faint traces of light, but they could spare some for their Khalai friend. Nerazim also enjoyed their individuality, but there would be no shortage of people wanting to help Rasti.

"Oh," she mumbled.

It wasn't long before a Prelate appeared. Her name was Liratha.

"Adun toridas, young warrior. Please tell me all."

Khalai were few and far between. Every once and a while one would appear in space, beaten almost to death and banished from Aiur for some crime or another. They were always taken with the utmost seriousness and were treated with kindness and respect.

"Adun toridas," Nthari replied respectfully. She related the tale as it had been told to her, conveying her thoughts slowly and more carefully than Pazura had managed. "His ship is named _West of Winter―_, give me a moment, I'll give you its tag," she leaned over the terminal, and soon fetched it. "Right now he and Faal'dar are speaking with her. She is…" Nthari's brow furrowed. "Unwell," she finished sadly.

Pazura would berate himself for nearly making a bad situation worse later. "I know you're frightened," he tried, "and Shakuras is very, very different from… Aiur." Part of him longed to see it, even though he knew it was off-limits.

He wanted to see the great sweeps of choked rainforest, bask in the glow of a warm, rich sun, the very same that had nourished his ancestors, but he knew he could not.

As such, the name "Aiur" was spoken with mental undertones of sadness. "But it is still a place of shelter. You will be safe from anything you fear there," he finished firmly.

Rasti laughed bitterly. "There are a lot of things I fear," she said. She looked away again, disgusted with herself, and Faal'dar leaned over and placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, but only slightly.

"No one will judge you," he said quietly. "We are a free people, and we will not look at you any differently than the bravest warrior."

She looked up at him, wide-eyed. "You don't... value bravery?"

He chuckled. "We are First-Born. Of course we do. But your fear is something I see as not yours. You are a very brave one, child, I can feel it under your fear. Some things just take time, and whatever had happened to you is one of those things."

Prelate Liratha listened silently. At the end, she simply nodded. "She must come to Shakuras," she said firmly. "If it is such a trap, we are well-hidden. You are not, and are not able to protect yourselves if the full might of the Templar come upon you. Please relay this to the esteemed Faal'dar."

"I will," Nthari bowed her head respectfully. "Thank you for your counsel; we will deliver her to Shakuras as soon as possible. Walk in shadow." Once dismissed, she cut off the communication.

Pazura watched, but did not move forward, himself. He didn't think that being approached by two Dark Templar at once would be very reassuring to her, and he didn't exude the same serene sense of paternal calm that Faal'dar did.

He was quiet for a moment, head tilted thoughtfully, his violet eyes oddly unfocused, as if he were staring at something past the far wall of his miniature greenhouse. Then he said, "Besides, there cannot be courage without fear. Feeling no fear, and conquering it, those are two different things."

He snapped his attention back to the two protoss before him, and added, "And they will help you do that. Conquer your fear."

Nthari stepped cautiously onto the deck above and peered in the porthole, but did not descend for fear of spooking the passenger. She had run to the ship, but now waited and kept her thoughts to herself. They seemed to be in the middle of something, and if she interrupted, she might very well ruin it.

Rasti was shaking her head. "I-I don't want to go to Shakuras. Those on Aiur could not help me..."

"Aiur-born are imprisoned within their own prejudices," Faal'dar stated bluntly. "They have a single version of people. If you do not fit their stereotype of what a Templar must be, you are unnatural and must be 'corrected.' We of the Nerazim believe in helping, not belittling. Yes, Nthari?"

Nthari took the invitation. "Of course," she offered from the porthole. Then, after a moment, she carefully made her way down and stood by Pazura.

They were each filling a part of the equation here―Faal was offering wisdom and comfort, Pazura a bit of everyday common sense, but what could she, a warrior, do to help someone as obviously fragile as poor Rasti?

"It's hard, living out here," she found herself saying. "There are more dangers to contend with than we ever imagined, so relying on one another is vital to our survival. I won't lie; Nerazim do not always get along…" She punctuated this by leaning sideways, resting her elbow on the crown of Pazura's craggy head.

His hunched-over posture, compared to her more upright stance, made it the perfect armrest. He blinked and shot her a sideways glance, but did not protest. "But we know when to stick together. When we need each other, we're there for one another."

"And you aren't Nerazim," Pazura replied from under her arm, "but you need us now. We would not be able to rightfully call ourselves protoss if we turned our back on you."

Nthari nodded firmly, still leaning on Pazura. She thought, too late, that perhaps she might have approached this more seriously, but could only hope her display might at least amuse their charge, since she was not terribly good at calming people.

Faal'dar did not mean for her to come down, and Rasti immediately had pulled back in fear, but the elder kept his hand on her shoulder and she couldn't shrink away. He flashed a look at the other female. "What did Shakuras say?" he asked her privately, giving her a mental prod to have her go back up the ladder. Rasti was not ready to be near the fierce-looking warrior.

Immediately Nthari drew back, abashed, and did not reply until she had vacated the room. She replied, also privately, "They say to bring her in immediately, and not just for her sake. If she is part of a trap, they will be better equipped to handle dealing with it."

Pazura looked back to watch Nthari go, and then turned to Rasti again. He wanted to help her, but he didn't know how, so he did the second best thing and stayed where he was.

"I see." Faal'dar returned his attention to the Khalai. "Shakuras is not a place to be afraid," he told her softly. "There will be more than enough people to help you there."

"W-Will you go with me?" Rasti was desperate for the paternal protoss' company. But Faal shook his head with a smile.

"No. I must remain here with my students."

Pazura smiled a little. He could understand why she would want to remain around Faal'dar―when he had been much, much younger, and a sight more timid, he had been almost as clingy. "I will see to it that you are comfortable," he said, "as best as I can."

He did not volunteer to take her because he assumed he would be doing so, all along. As far as he was concerned, seeing her safely to Shakuras was his responsibility. He paused for a moment, and scratched his cheek. "And I could get you more lights before we go." Hopefully that would make her feel a little better. 

"Oh," Rasti murmured. She remained leaning a little into Faal'dar, who tolerated this patiently. "Well. All right."

"Come. Get up; walk around. Stretch your legs." The male rose, lifting Rasti with him. "It will be good for you to walk around." 

"I-I... don't want..."

Faal ignored this and set her on her feet. "Nthari, see to it that the docking bay and hallways are clear. We do not want to frighten her even more," he said privately. "Pazura, you will escort her around the station."

Nthari nodded and left the upper deck, moving swiftly and soundlessly. She got to work, industriously clearing the area and staying out of sight.

Pazura blinked, and then nodded obediently. He let Faal'dar bring her close to him before he said, "I'll show you around."

He was unsure if he should touch her shoulder―he hadn't yet touched Rasti at all―so instead he offered his great, clawed hand, letting her make the decision to initiate the contact. He watched her, his glowing gaze placid and questioning.

Rasti tentatively took it, placing her slightly smaller hand in his. This surprised her: she wasn't as small as she thought she was compared to him. Less muscular for sure, but not much shorter. They must be about the same age.

As she was drawn to his side, she looked questioningly at Faal. He gave her an encouraging mental push. She stepped a little closer to Pazura and let herself be drawn out of her hiding place and onto the upper deck, then slowly into the hanger.

"Where... is everyone?"

"Around," Faal'dar replied vaguely.

Pazura smiled and swelled with a bit of pride. She was still obviously nervous, but this was the closest thing he had done to relaxing her since he'd met her. It felt nice to know he was helping a bit. Up close, he couldn't help but notice some of the same sorts of things she did. They were nearly the same size, though he found her age more difficult to gauge. Aiur-born tended to be smoother-skinned.

He also couldn't help but notice that she was a tad more muscular than average. She didn't possess the same obvious lethal strength as Nthari, but she looked a little more physically capable than the average female―had she been a warrior?

He knew nothing about her. It hadn't bothered him till that moment. He pushed such thoughts aside to help her up and then out of the ship. "This station isn't very crowded. Most of them aren't, actually. We make do." He sent a mental shrug, still holding her hand, as he gently led her along. 

He paused before a broad window which displayed his ship securely locked in place, with the gentle curve of the docking arm stretching out behind it, and beyond, the star-scattered void.

"That's my ship." The vessel was quite scruffy-looking, even from the outside. Her cargo vessel was still attached, and simple though it was, its gleaming elegance made _West of Winter_ look even more run-down.

Faal'dar smiled. His young student was growing up, his youthful exuberence slowly being replaced by the dark calmness and rationality of the void they so studied. It was more than he could say with Nthari, though he would not berate her for her warrior's spirit. It was just who she was.

"What was its name, again?" Rasti was asking. She even went as far as to give a slight smile. "It looks a bit run-down."

"_West of Winter_," he replied, and at her comment, he raised his cloth-shielded chin a little higher. "I believe the thought you are looking for is 'character.' Yes. It has character."

There was no real malice in his tone, but he was genuinely proud of his little vessel.

He was unaware of Faal'dar's approval. He was concentrating on Rasti and his ship. "There's an even better view on the upper decks. Would you like to see?"

"Yes," she replied, surprising herself. She let herself smile. "I think _my _ship has character. Yours is just old," she teased, then ducked her head and looked away in bashful apology. Her hand, though, remained tightly entwined in his, even as she looked over her shoulder to make sure the silent Faal'dar was still there.

He shrugged good-naturedly. Friendly teasing wasn't something to take offense at, and besides, it was worth it if it got her to come out of her shell like this. Pazura led the way, puzzled by the lack of personnel.

Nthari was doing her job, trailing them in utter silence and stealth, backtracking and then using alternate routes to get ahead of them and clear the way. Pazura was wholly unaware of her lingering presence, and probably only Faal'dar even knew she was around. This was the only thing she could do to help, so she took it seriously.

Of course, she wasn't able to dislodge everyone―there were a few operators left on the upper deck when Pazura arrived, but they had been warned, so they only glanced her way before returning their attentions to their terminals.

The view was sweeping and magnificent. The body the station was orbiting was cast in shadow, and beyond the horizon loomed the distant, colorful mass of a nebula, dotted with infant stars.

Pazura smiled and suppressed an urge to be gone, to be among those stars, to be traveling and searching for sights new to his eyes, for knowledge unknown to his people.

Faal'dar smiled mentally, studying Pazura proudly. He said nothing, however, and did not let on what he was thinking.

"What nebula?" Rasti found herself asking, glancing up at the taller Nerazim.

"There are a couple of different names for it," Pazura admitted, folding his hands together before him. "My tribe have always referred to it as Opal Reef. Opal for the colors―it is a magnificent stone, I have one I can show you as we make our way to Shakuras―and it certainly looks like a reef, with the stars like shoals of fish." He gestured with one hand.

Given the decidedly nautical set of his garb, it wasn't surprising that his people would have taken sea-themed names for things. "But the other names for it are just as grand. I believe one is Iawar's Breath, after a nearby star." It might have seemed strange to a Khalai to refer to something by so many different names, especially given the emphasis on solidarity and communion in Aiur society.

Rasti faltered a little when he released her, folding her own hands into her battered robe. She had wanted the Khalai name for it―indeed, it had completely slipped her mind that they might call it something different (or several things different)―so she could at least figure out where she was in relation to Aiur.

"I like them all," she said finally, studying the shimmering nebula. "Very... poetic."

"Pyjas!"

Rasti jumped and backed up fast, finding herself within the tattered cloak of Faal'dar. He folded an arm around her patiently and turned his head to face the young male bounding up to him. He had either escaped Nthari's notice or had convinced her to let him by.

"Pyjas, look what I found," he gushed, holding up the small centipede-like creature in his hands. "What is it? I couldn't find it in our archives! What is it?"

"Aaahh. I do believe you should ask Pazura that question," Faal'dar replied, amused. "He is the one who brought a family back from his travels and accidentally let them loose to breed. What are they, Pazura?"

The boy looked up at the other Nerazim, eyes bright.

Nthari appeared behind him a few moments later, her expression one of wry humor. It had not been her intention to let the boy pass, but the irony of a child being the only one to slip past her didn't fail to register. She stayed a few feet away, ready to lead the child back to where he came from.

Pazura cocked his head and turned to face the child. "Oh, these. What they are is both a blessing and a curse, little one," he replied, holding out his hand. The tiny creature crawled onto it, and then over, and he had to cycle his palms to keep it from flopping to the floor. "They shed these little legs at the slightest sign of danger, which causes a mess, but they eat a lot of smaller bugs, which could do worse."

He glanced to Rasti. "I call them tontai. Would you like to see, Rasti? They're quite harmless."

"No, that's all right," Rasti mumbled, staring hard at the floor. It embarrassed her that she had been so jumpy around a _child, _for Khas' sake. Who was now staring up at her, unabashedly curious. He did not, however, say anything, whether it be because of his own self-restraint or because Faal'dar mentally urged him not to. "How did you get them to breed?"

"Pazura will write an archive entry just for you, little one," Faal butted in smoothly. "He has been lagging in those, lately. Child, go with Nthari. I will answer all your questions later."

"If _I _lagged in my studies, you'd lecture me," the boy grumbled, but stepped back sullenly and allowed himself to be taken away.

"Indeed." Faal'dar glanced at Pazura, tilting his head as if contemplating giving a lecture.

Pazura blinked, and with that motion the moment seemed to break. He hadn't realized just how nervous Rasti had become until he saw her folded away like that. "Take it along, now," he offered it back to the child, and then Nthari leaned down and clamped her hand gently on his shoulder.

"C'mon, squirt," she led him away.

Pazura turned to the other two Protoss. "I'm sorry, Rasti. Are you okay?" He was so concerned that he missed Faal'dar's stern expression.

"Yes," Rasti replied, still staring at the floor, huddled safely in Faal'dar's cloak. The elder waited patiently for her to calm herself and step away (but only slightly; she remained very close to him). "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Pazura reassured her, staying where he was for fear of spooking her further. Faal was much better at comforting than he was. He didn't know what else to tell her after that. "Well, enough sightseeing. We had better get you some fresh clothing and get on our way, I suppose."

He glanced surreptitiously to Faal'dar to see if this plan was one the elder found favorable. In Pazura's mind, the sooner they got to Shakuras, the better.

Faal'dar felt the young protoss' mind flicker against his, but he was looking down at the dark brown female and missed the gaze. He said nothing.

"All right," Rasti said, also glancing up at Faal. He smiled at her and exuded patient confidence. "But that... that boy. He had long cords."

"He did indeed," the elder said, urging her along. She took a step forward and looked up at Pazura, expecting him to lead the way. "We do not Sever children. We only do so when they become of age... and when they are capable of making that decision themselves."

Rasti shuddered. Severence. The most horrid of thoughts. To be cut forever from the Khala, from her friends and loved ones, from the steady stream of information and memories that made her world. How did these Dark Templar―Nerazim―not go mad?

Faal'dar did not answer. He simply urged Pazura silently to extend his hand to her again, to give her the option of taking it.

Pazura held out his hand an instant before Faal had to remind him to, which left the elder slightly relieved that Rasti would be properly taken care of. He couldn't help but feel the revulsion emanating from her mind at the word "severance."

He was a little surprised, at first, and then he thought privately to himself, _Of course she would. She's Khalai. _He had started to see Rasti as a person, as more than just an Aiur-born.

He snapped back into the proper focus―yes, she was upset, yes, she needed help and care, but he was going to be alone in his vessel with her, and he must not let his guard down like that again.

"Do you have a preference for clothing? Or anything else? The journey to Shakuras is not terribly long, but your current conditions aren't as comfortable as they could be," he said, still offering his hand.

Hesitantly she inched forward and laid her hand in his once again. "I... yes. I mean, no. No preference." Of course, she did have a preference as to whether or not they were as torn and unkempt as the Dark Templar around her, but she didn't say so. Even the technicians' clothes were worn. She looked at them, startled: she'd forgotten they were there. It was easy to do so; they melted into shadow so easily...

She stepped a little closer and tightened her grip on Pazura's hand, glancing down at his long nails. Goodness, they were talons. Her own were not nearly as long as his. Even Faal'dar's were very long. Was that a Nerazim thing?

Pazura did not sense her confusion at his taloned fingers―his thoughts were elsewhere, mentally ticking off a list of things he'd need. "Would you prefer to come with me or wait at the ship?" he asked, turning his masked face to her once more. If she came along, she would be exposed to many strangers, but he didn't think she would want to be alone, either…

Which left him in a quandary, as he certainly couldn't stay with her and gather the supplies. He also didn't want to trouble anyone else with the tasks. He was sure Faal'dar would agree to stay with her, but he felt he had already used too much of the elder's time.

In the end, though, it all rested on her decision. "If you come along, there will be many others. I'll make sure you're not alone, if you stay aboard _West of Winter."_

Rasti immediately looked up to Faal'dar, who remained quiet, refusing to make a decision for her. She looked back at Pazura. "I'll... come with you." She fidgeted. "I won't have to put that... one of those things over my face, will I?" she blurted suddenly, then shrank away in embarrassment.

It took Pazura a moment to realize what she meant. "A―a mask? No! Of course not. It's just a tradition of my tribe," he explained, "as well as a few others. Nobody would expect it of you; you are not Nerazim. And not all Nerazim wear such, after all." He began to gently lead her along. 

Hopefully he would be able to keep her from freaking out if he distracted her, and he intended to do that by educating her. He explained the function of the station. It was a waypoint between major populated colonies. It was technically a refueling station, but travelers got much more than that when they came here.

"It is a place to refuel your ship, your stock, and your soul," he explained as they moved into a more populated sector. 

Nthari had dropped off her silent pursuit, because she couldn't possibly clear everyone out, but she didn't wander far, in case they needed her. It wasn't often that she ever got to nurture anything, and even if she had just scared the crap out of poor Rasti, the thought of helping something helpless made her feel strangely nice.

"Not everyone is used to being alone all the time. It's nice to have company," Pazura went on as they passed corridors full of Nerazim. Their garb, shape, and size were wildly varied, suited to their home worlds and customs. All manner of armor was on display, some of it cobbled from the remains of alien bones to elegant constructions of jet-black stone.

There were smoother-skinned Nerazim, but none as such as Rasti, and some even more fierce-looking than either Pazura or Faal'dar. Pazura kept a firm hold of Rasti's hand as they moved.

Rasti had begun to calm again, and her curiosity even won over her fear of the vicious-looking Templar, though she kept herself close to Pazura. Faal'dar moved farther back, unnoticed by her, to give her time to associate being safe with the younger Nerazim.

The Khalai received quite a few stares herself. As Aiur-born, she garnered a bit of attention. No one spoke to her, nor approached her, likely sensing her fear, but there was a healthy amount of curiosity traveling through the dark spectators.

"So... your people are communal," she said slowly. She had been taught that all Dark Templar were vicious and unruly, even within their ranks. This was obvious as she watched them, but was hard to grasp. All those Judicators... the Conclave... the Assembly... they lied?

"We are more private than what you're probably used to," Pazura admitted, "But very few protoss can live a truly solitary life. We have families and loved ones, too." He was more of a loner than was perhaps normal. He didn't dislike company―he simply preferred to share his time with the untouched mysteries of the Void. If he ever found someone who shared such a passion, he'd happily bring them along.

He looked to her. One didn't have to read minds to sense her surprise. "Not what you expected?"

She gave a quiet negative. "We're taught... we're taught that you're savages. Bloodthirsty. Unruly. Evil."

Unconsciously, she moved closer to him, her side pressed to his. How could they have been so wrong? And when faced with the truth, why did they continue to lie? It made no sense. Why didn't they just... just...

Just what, she didn't know. Accept them, perhaps? Rasti doubted the Conclave would ever accept those who did not share themselves in the Khala. But why didn't they just teach them, instead of shun them? It was all very confusing.

Pazura replied quietly, "You were clearly taught wrong." He then fell contemplatively silent. He was acutely aware of her leaning against him. He was not used to physical contact of any kind, and such from an attractive female was certainly not unwelcome.

He chided himself, though. She was doing this for comfort, not because she wanted anything from him. Enjoying it seemed… wrong, like he was taking advantage of her. "I do not know why Khalai are taught to hate us. Probably some of it is fear. But we have no quarrel with Aiur. We simply ask for the right to live our lives as we see fit."

Rasti was silent, digesting this.

They arrived at a door, which looked exactly like the rest of them. After they made their presence known, they were bid to enter and walked into a small room which served as a typical living quarters. Inside, clothes hung from every surface, and in the center of the circular room a middle-aged female sat crosslegged. She greeted them politely.

"Yes?"

Pazura smiled and bobbed his head politely. "Good evening! My friend here needs some decent clothing. We're about to make our way to Shakuras." He gestured to Rasti, but didn't push her forward or away, content to let her take comfort in his bulk.

He paused for a moment, and then said, "I think dark purple would look good against your skin tone." He hoped it helped drag her mind out of whatever well of fear it had mired itself into, because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Rasti blinked and pulled herself out of whatever she was thinking of, glancing down at her brown body. "Dark purple...? Yes, I... suppose it would." She'd never tried that color.

The other female rose, studying Rasti curiously, and the Khalai pressed further into Pazura. She recognized the fear and backed away. "Of course. Stand up straight, child, and let me see your body."

Rasti obeyed hesitantly, standing free of Pazura for a moment while the Nerazim studied her with a critical eye. After she had given an encouraging nod, she shrank back to the male's side again. "I do believe I have some currently made." She went to rummage through the clothing heaped around, which, while it seemed in untidy piles, apparently had a sort of filing system, and the female emerged with deep purple robes. "Only one set, I'm afraid," she said apologetically. Most Nerazim generally wore one set of clothing for a very long time, but Khalai tended to change clothes frequently.

Pazura looked it over and nodded. "That'll suit you just fine. Thank you again," he said to the older protoss. "You can change when we get back to _West of Winter_." 

There were a few more items to gather―extra provisions and a bit of spare fuel, just in case―but all too soon it seemed as if it were time to go. Nthari had vanished during the shopping, but reappeared to say goodbye and to with the two of them luck. "See you soon," she called.

Pazura stopped to formally thank Faal'dar. "I appreciate your guidance, as always," he murmured, bowing his head respectfully. "And this time your wisdom has benefited two. We both owe you so much."

Faal'dar, too, had disappeared during the shopping, and reappeared near the ship when it was time to depart. He was pleased that Rasti had shifted some of her comfort from him to Pazura. Likely, she considered him her savior as he was the first to find her.

"I have continued doing my duty," he said, placing a hand on Pazura's shoulder. It was a warm, friendly weight. "As well as my pleasure. I hope to see you soon... and you will create data entries for each thing you have found to put in the archives." His eyes twinkled. "You will have a very disappointed young fan here, elsewise. Adun toridas, Pazura."

"Goodbye," Rasti mumbled.

"Walk in shadow, my young friend. Shakuras is the right place for you."


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't long before they were off. Pazura let Rasti have her roam of the ship (save his room―the door was still closed and locked) while he tended to the navigational array. As soon as they were underway, he went looking for her.

"Is there anything else you need?" he asked, once he'd found her. She had fresh clothes, and bedding, and plenty of light and water, but he still felt obliged to ask.

She'd started to come out of her shell a little bit, and that gave him hope. He would very much like to see her cast off he last of her fearful nervousness―though it would likely be a long time, and he might not even see it happen.

"No, I think I'm... do you have a book?" she asked, pretty much without wanting to. If she were of lighter complexion, he would have seen her flush as she looked away. But she had said it, and boldly continued: "Something about... something you've discovered. Out here."

He cocked his head. "A… well, nothing official―just old-fashioned journals I've kept." He smiled. "Here, I'll show you." He turned and moved easily through the clutter. He was gone for a good ten minutes, and when he came back, he had three thick books cradled in the crook of his arm.

They had all been bound with what looked like large, leathery leaves mended together with a slick paste, and the pages were sturdy, irregularly-shaped, and yellowed.

He trotted over to the light in the middle of his miniature greenhouse and gestured for her to sit with him. "Fine writing, no, but if you're interested…"

His handwriting was blocky and neat, and he was quite a good sketcher. One wouldn't think so, looking at his huge, awkward hands.

The journals were notes he'd made on his discoveries―in places he'd pressed plant specimens and affixed them carefully, and in some places he had simply sketched what he saw. "I remember these." He pointed to a lifelike drawing of a blade-thin lizard like creature. "I caught a beetle and fed one, and then they followed me the rest of the time I was visiting their home. Heh."

Rasti blinked and inched a little closer. "Wait, so they... understood you fed them? Such small creatures? Do they even have brains for that sort of thing?"

She had never been really into the whole scholar-thing. History and law, the things Templar were supposed to learn along with the warrior arts, were hideously boring and she'd never had the chance to pursue anything else (and she likely would have been looked at funny if she had). But this... this was interesting. Discovering new things! Making people's lives better―the worker class had it good.

She leaned into him a bit, caught up in the thrill of learning new things.

"I don't know. They moved as a group―perhaps they had a central intelligence. I didn't study them long enough to find out." Pazura, though he was bright, could have what was considered a short attention span.

He would discover something new, be fascinated, and then hurriedly shuffle off to find something else to occupy his time. Over the course of the next few hours, Pazura shared some of his discoveries with her.

He was on his second book, opening it when a flower fell out. It was, by no means, special, but rather a simple lily, pale purple in color, somewhat like his eyes. He plucked it from the floor and held its delicate form in his huge, clawed hand. "If you'd like," he said, "I'll tell you a story about this flower. I've had it for years now."

He smiled, and his eyes grew strangely flat, as if they were looking at something only he can see. "Since I was a child."

Rasti looked up at him. Every discovery he had made, every moment on an alien planet, had thrilled something deep inside her. She had never been the type to ponder things, but then again, she had been expected to be one of the wild, violent Zealots. It had been her niche and she had been content to live in it. But now... now she felt the thrill of new discovery, and could feed her intellect just as her body had been fed in Templar training.

"Since you were a child?" She looked down at it. "How has it not simply crumbled to dust?"

"I preserved it, as I have all these specimens," he replied. He tilted it slightly, and there was a faint sheen over the petals and what remained of the stem and the stamen. "In order for them to be around long enough for anyone to see them, they need to be preserved." After a pause, he added, "And it wasn't so long ago. I am not quite three hundred yet."

He set the book on the floor and began to flip for the page that he thought he'd affixed the flower to. "The story is… about myself, but also about all Nerazim." He didn't know if she was still interested to hear it, though, so he let her make the decision.

"Tell me?" the question was soft. Rasti wasn't quite touching him, but hovered close, a scant few inches from his side. She waited, almost eagerly. For the first time since Pazura had found her, her eyes were bright and curious.

He glanced from the flower to her, and blinked, surprised at the expression he found there. Then, smiling, he told his story. "When I was very young, we were taken to see a lagoon near my hometown for a science lesson. It was the breeding season for a certain species of phosphorescent shrimp. Well, in order to get to the lagoon we had to cross a rope bridge. It was safe, but it _looked _old and rickety."

He shifted a little. The tattered fabric shreds of his clothing whispered against one another as he reached under his mask to scratch at his cheek. "I am… no coward, but I have never had a head for heights. The entire class went over the bridge, but I remained. I was too frightened. Nthari came back for me and tried to help me but, ah… I couldn't do it. One of my classmates began to tease me, and so she declared that we would find another way around, and a better one at that."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "She meant well, of course…" But she had been and still was headstrong, with a tendency not to think things through.

"So we set off. It wasn't a dangerous country, so there wasn't much to worry about, and she soon found an old footpath winding up the cliffs. It was still frightening, but it was much easier to handle. The lagoon was on the other side of the cliff, so we reasoned we would just go up and over."

He opened his eyes and looked back to Rasti. "At the top, we found a small field of these flowers." Gently, he stroked the preserved specimen where he had set it on the page. "It was just a small pocket of soil, only a few strides across, and they were a little worse for the wear, but they were _still _beautiful. From the top we could see the lagoon, and it was filled with tiny, glittering specks, like stars in the water, or diamond dust."

He was quiet for a few moments. "I'll never forget it." Then he added, "There was no path to the other side, so we had to try and climb, and that was horrifying, but it was still worth it, and we both made it down in one piece. But… our life―the way the Nerazim choose to live―is a lot like that story. Our path is different. Sometimes it is treacherous, and sometimes it holds untold rewards, but there is no evil in pursuing it. I kept this flower to remind me of that, for strength and pride in my heritage."

He stroked it again, and fell silent, letting her digest this.

It was a lot to digest. Rasti was silent for a long time, gazing at the small, delicate flower. Eventually, she smiled. "What did Faal'dar have to say about that?"

"I have not… told him. It was a private realization that I came to by myself." Truth be told, under normal circumstances, Pazura found the retelling of the story to be highly embarrassing. He didn't mind sharing it with Rasti, someone who might learn and benefit from it, but he feared it would sound foolish if he told it to someone as wise and learned as Faal'dar.

Besides, he didn't like to remind anyone of his skittishness of heights.

Pazura sounded wise and learned to Rasti, however. She mulled over the story he had told her, and would likely mull over it for some time. "It sounds like something he would be proud of you for," she said finally. "He's very paternal."

Carefully, she turned the page of the book he was holding. "I could not believe before that so many different tribes could be the same. On Aiur, everyone fits into their nook and does their job, no matter what. They're so different. Until now... no, they understand! They..." she thought hard. "The Khalai all do their jobs; they enjoy what they do. Why are the Dark Templar―the, the Nerazim―why are you so different?"

"You're referring to the caste system?" He tilted his head. "I think… it all began with a choice." He was quiet for some time. "A long time ago, protoss made a choice. They didn't want the Khala. They wanted to make their own choices, to live their own lives and be… free. I know you see the Khala as something good, a unifying force, but it seems more like a prison to me. An iron band, made of a thousand minds, reminding you of your place, of who you are."

He shook his head. "I believe individuals must discover these answers for themselves. At the risk of sounding harsh, happiness with one's lot in life is… is so limited. To be born knowing what you'll be, and that you won't ever be anything else, is… I don't understand how anyone can live like that. I think the reason they're happy, or they think they're happy, is because they have to live with the pressure of a thousand voices all telling them at once, '_This is what you are and this is what you'll do.'"_

He looked to her. "But it is only a theory."

It was another thing to think about. Another very large thing to think about. Rasti fell silent again, thoughts running through her mind.

They eventually parted ways, Rasti heading down to her little hole to curl up with her safe cuccoon of light and a book Pazura had given her to flip through, and Pazura doing whatever it was he did when he wasn't coddling her. She sat down and read, carefully looking at every picture and every note he had written or drawn, and felt something stir within.

Was that what he meant? She had been happy with her life before. She had been about to be a Zealot, and perhaps if she stayed long enough, one of the higher tiers of Templar. She hadn't thought about it because she hadn't thought she needed to.

And then that horrible thing happened―she couldn't _remember_ what it was―and it was so very, very different. Rasti didn't understand. She didn't get it. What had changed, besides her disgusting fear of, well, everything?

Rasti remained there the rest of the trip.

For the most part, Pazura was too set in his ways to spend a lot of time with anyone, but he did check on her. Despite her apparent unwillingness to leave, he was sure to keep his door locked. It bothered him a little, but he forced himself to take the necessary precaution. He liked Rasti. She seemed like a nice person, and open-minded enough to listen to him, but he couldn't take any chances.

He was sure to inform her when they arrived. A brief communication wit the docking officials told him that they were more than ready to take her in. She was about to be their responsibility now.

He felt a little regretful of this. It would be nice to stay with her and see her through, but she was better off in the tender care of people who knew what they were doing. "Rasti?" He called as he descended into the greenhouse. "We're about to dock. Are you ready?"

Rasti was just waking up, having had a healthy half-hour nap just before they arrived. Pazura caught her mid-stretch, on her side and arching her back with her arms flung over her head and eyes half-closed. She doubled up quickly as he swung down, a mite embarrassed at being caught in such a position, and sat up.

"Oh," was all she said. She stood, clutching the book to her chest. The light in her eyes from before was replaced by fear.

He only cocked his masked head and smiled at her, happy to see that she had been so relaxed. On the heels of that realization, it also occurred to him that he had been the one to ruin it. His smile faded, but only slightly. He scratched at his cheek uncertainly, and then said, "If you'd like, you may keep that with you. And I can pass another along when I come to visit."

He offered his hand. His time with her was about to be over―as least as far as he knew―and he wanted to see it through until the end.

Rasti had stepped forward and put her hand in his before she realized what he had said. "Come visit? You're... you're leaving?"

Of course he was leaving. He had to go discover things and be who he was. She had been foolish to think he would stay with her.

Pazura nodded. "Yes. I'm… I wouldn't be able to help you, much. I'm not a doctor. These people will help you conquer whatever it is that you're fighting inside you. I wouldn't be much help. Probably more of a distraction," he admitted, a little embarrassedly.

"But I have no intention of abandoning you. I'll see to it that you can contact me any time you need me―unless I've moved into a region of space that does not allow such―and I will visit you, of course."

She gave him a weak mental nod before allowing him to lead her up the ladder, refusing to release her book. Once on the top level, she stuck to Pazura like a burr as they made their way to the ramp that led to the cold, shadowy rock that was the outside ground.

It took them a few minutes to walk all the way to the outside. It was dark, frightfully dark, and so very cold compared to Aiur. The rock was dark gray and purple, and the sands an equal color. As they stepped outside, Rasti glanced up to see the endless Void, stars gleaming silently in velveteen space.

She snapped her gaze back down. There were―_shapes_―moving in the night. As they drew closer, she realized they were Dark Templar, and the cloaks of darkness that they had somehow gathered around themselves fell slowly away until four very real Nerazim stood in a rough half-circle around them.

She tried to burrow into Pazura's side.

Pazura held her hand as he led her out, and let her huddle against him. He wondered if he should envelop her with one arm, as she seemed to be taking comfort in his presence, but he was unsure of whether or not it would spook her.

In the end, she was clearly so terrified of her surroundings that he decided it couldn't hurt, and he stretched out his arm, enveloping her in a softly-rustling wall of cloth and drawing her gently against his side.

"Adun toridas," he said, lowering his head politely to the gathered Nerazim. "I am Pazura, and this is Rasti. We have…" he fumbled. "An appointment."

It didn't come out as poetic or commanding as he would have liked, but it served its purpose.

As one, the Nerazim inclined their heads. One stepped foward. "Adun toridas, young Pazura. We have come to bring you to your accommodations," he added, looking to the terrified Rasti. "There is no need to be afraid. No one will harm you; indeed, none of the Nerazim would hurt a fellow protoss."

Rasti let out a mumbling affirmative, and she relaxed a little, but not enough to step away from Pazura. When the Dark Templar beckoned and began to stride away, she touched her protector's mind slightly. "Will you... come with me? J-Just to the... 'accommodations.'"

"Of course! I wouldn't leave you before you were settled in." Pazura didn't plan on just dropping her off and scuttling away. He wanted to stay for a few days to make sure she would be okay; he felt responsible for her, after all.

He didn't stray from her side as they were led to the accommodations in question. Once they had arrived, though, he gently nudged her, encouraging her to explore her new abode. "I can bring anything you need from the ship. And of course, I'll stay in communications with you." He looked around, idly scratching his cheek.

The rooms were well-lit, which calmed the woman somewhat. They were small, and she got the idea that all Nerazim quarters were equally as small. Hesitantly, still clutching the book to her chest, she trotted around the small room. There was a plush bed, a sitting area, and even a balcony that looked out over the quiet, dark city. The floor was made of stone, tightly packed together in a circular arrangement. In the center, a stand holding a small crystal caught her eye.

"Is that a... a khaydarin crystal?" she asked, moving closer. She didn't need the answer; it was obvious it was. Only High Templar and Elders retained such things.

"It is indeed. We believed such a thing would be calming to you," one of the Nerazim said, a stout female. She didn't say that such crystals were even fewer and farer between than on Aiur. "It cannot stay here forever, however."

"I... yes. Thank you."

Pazura's focus immediately snapped to the crystal as well. It had been a long time since he basked in the glow of one of them―not since he'd visited his hometown, as it were. The tiny settlement had a sliver, more like an elegant blue needle than anything else, but he'd been allowed to hold it twice.

He could still remember the thrum of calming energy that had swept through him. If anything could help her state of mind, it could.

"For everything," Pazura supplemented, stepping forward. "Is there anything you require from me?"

The female tilted her head. "We do not require you for anything. When you leave is up to you... and Rasti."

Rasti looked at him quickly, but didn't comment.

Pazura looked to her. He wouldn't have minded staying on Shakuras for a few days in any scenario, and he could stretch it for Rasti. He would liked to have been out and exploring again by the end of a week, but if she needed him, he wouldn't leave her.

He nodded to her slowly and politely. "I'll stay as long as you need me to, Rasti."

_Need,_ though, that was the key. He would stay as long as she needed him to, but not necessarily as long as she wanted him to. He didn't think she'd be able to make it if he stayed indefinitely; she would need to stand on her own. It wouldn't make her happy, but it would probably make her stronger. And then he could come see her again―if she still wanted him to.

Rasti looked away and nodded, once. "Thank you." She hesitated, then crossed the room, and placed a hand on Pazura's broad chest. It was a light touch, a tentative one, but it rested heavier as she became more bold. "But you should leave now."

Pazura's instinctive reaction to being approached was to step back―it was nothing against Rasti, of course. He simply wasn't used to it. He held himself still, though, and let her touch him, and he was rather glad he did, because it was a very warming gesture.

Followed by her basically telling him to get out. He blinked. He had carried himself with great dignity so far, but now he floundered. "You mean… out of the room or would you like me to leave you… entirely, or…?"

"I'm not stupid," Rasti said firmly. "I know you want to leave to make sure I... I learn to stand on my own. The best way to do that is to leave now."

It was so hard to do this. She wanted him to _stay, _stay and comfort her on this strange world with such frightening figures. But that wouldn't do much good. "I expect you to come back, of course."

Being a loner, Pazura had not had much practice with peering into the minds of others. He was unusually isolated from his peers, even for a Nerazim, both physically and mentally. He narrowed his eyes slightly and made an effort, though, to sense what Rasti felt, rather than what she shared with him.

He could just barely tell that she was urging him off with… difficulty. Odds were she didn't want him to go, but maybe she knew it was what was best for her. His narrowed eyes turned into a gentle smile, and he nodded. He was proud of Rasti. She had some fight in her yet. "Of course." A pause. "I have to get my book back, after all."

Rasti laughed, her shoulders hunching and head tilting to one side. "Ahh. I don't think I'll be able to give it away. You might have to fight me for it."

She turned away then, wandering out to the balcony, and they parted ways.

For about two years.

Two years were a mere hiccup in a protoss' life, a few seasons in the grand scheme of their vast lifetimes. But still, it felt like forever, especially on the dark, changeless world of Shakuras. At the same time Rasti could hardly believe it when she stood on the landing pad awaiting his foretold arrival, eyes bright and eager as she gazed up for the dark shape that would betray a landing ship.

Pazura had honestly tried to keep in touch, but every now and again, sometimes for months at a time, he would move through communication black zones. Usually he had some warning of these, but sometimes he just disappeared, and his fate was uncertain until he popped back into existence.

He told her of the many new sights he came across―the asteroid field, which was really not all that interesting until he stumbled upon the ancient remains of what was either a temple or a mine―he wasn't sure.

He got to work filling a new book, and promised to let her see it when he arrived. Before he traveled to Shakuras, though, he stopped to make a quick visit to Faal'dar and Nthari, delivering a promised data download of the discoveries he'd made so far.

When _West of Winter_ swung into view, it looked much the same: battered but sturdy, much like the Nerazim it belonged to. Pazura shuffled out also looking much the same, except for maybe a few new additions to his clothes, and he had replaced his mask. He paused outside his ship to stretch, and then, shaking out his limbs, looked to and fro for Rasti.

Instead of calling to him mentally, Rasti strode forward. She looked much different from the frightened, timid female Pazura had found dying on a derelict towing vessel. Her back was straight and proud, and her eyes burned fiercely on her dark brown face. She wore the same clothes he had gotten for her on the station, and they, like all the other Nerazim's, were getting to be a bit tattered. Under her arm was Pazura's heavily-thumbed book.

She had always been more muscular than the average Khalai female, but now her muscles seemed healthy instead of out-of-place. But the most noticeable thing was that her nerve-cords had been expertly cut off about a hand's width from her crest, and tipped with silver caps.

All in all, Rasti looked like she belonged.

"I wonder who this stranger might be," she said, stopping a few feet before Pazura. "It's been so long, I hardly recognize you!"

This was nonsense, of course. Her eyes twinkled, betraying her mischief.

"I was thinking the same," Pazura replied. His hunched posture was more noticeable now that Rasti was standing tall and proud, and he looked her over in disbelief. It wasn't just that she looked different, though she did. Her air had changed so much, it was like brushing thoughts with a different creature. 

He caught a flash of silver and blinked, leaning to the side. She'd been cut! He wasn't sure what path his formerly-Kahlai charge had been meaning to take, though either would have been fine with him. It was ironic how, by severing her nerve-cords, she seemed to have gained so much in return. "Something gained, something lost," he murmured, mostly to himself.

"You sounded well last time I spoke to you, but you're much more…" He paused, and his purple eyes narrowed in thought. He scratched his cheek.

"Much _more,"_ he concluded. Now that Rasti's mind wasn't confused with fear, she was able to sense an awkwardness about Pazura she was previously blind to.

He was gentle, and kind, but he was rather like a puzzle piece turned sideways. This wasn't where he belonged. His mind was a little more isolated and guarded, not by effort, but by instinct. Sometimes great travelers of the Void came back as dashing creatures, changed by the knowledge they had gained, the sights they had witnessed.

Pazura just gave off the impression of someone used to spending a lot of time alone.

Rasti boldly reached up and grabbed his hand mid-scratch, pulling it away from his cheek. "You can thank Lizroa, Kir'dath, and Ikarin for that," she said, releasing his hand. "The three you left me with. They've been very kind. I feel like my old self." She laughed. "Lizroa left to tend to duties, but I've kept in contact with Kir'dath and Ikarin. They've begun to teach me the ways of the Void."

Pazura started when she reached for him, but let her grab his wrist and pull it away. In a way, their roles were almost reversed now―Rasti was well on her way to being a full-fledged member of his people, and Pazura hadn't moved much from the fringes. Of course, this was only one facet of his personality―he wasn't nearly as jumpy and awkward when it came to combat―but it was noticeable, all the same.

"I knew bringing you to Shakuras would be the right thing to do," he replied, smiling. "Let's walk." He gestured for her to follow, leading her away from the ship. "You probably know Shakuras better than I do, now. So lead on, and tell me everything that's happened since we last spoke."

He was interested to hear not only of what had happened in her studies, but of the ordinary everyday challenges Rasti had been forced to overcome. He considered her a friend then, and a friend now.

"Much of it was my fear of the Nerazim, even after I had lost my fear of everything else," Rasti said. She fell into step beside him. "Even after I enjoyed a mind without fear, I was afraid of what I had been taught beforehand. Dark Templar are evil, they are sadistic and wild monsters. None of that is true, of course, but still I expected them to turn on me. It was only very recently that I realized my foolishness." She smiled. "It was then I asked them to Sever me.

"They refused, at first," she went on. She looked over at him. He was still taller, but his stoop made them about the same height. "Usually, newcomers go through a rite where they are able to say yes or no to Severence. But they didn't want to do that with me. They thought it would be too frightening. In a way, they were right, but I was determined."

Pazura nodded. His mind had been made up from a very young age, but he understood that not everyone felt the same. "If I may ask―if it's not too personal―what made you decide?" 

"The knowledge of what happened to me," she replied promptly. She looked away. "For three years... it was... here, let's sit," she nodded to a stairwell. "Up there on that roof is one of my favorite places."

His instinctive reaction to her mentioning her past, to what had happened to her, was to shy away from it. He didn't want to pry, to reopen a painful wound when she had only just healed. But she had offered to tell him. "Very well. Lead the way."

Pazura had no trouble following her wherever she wanted to lead him. He let her lead him to the roof. He waited for her to sit but otherwise he stood there, watching her with his inscrutable violet gaze. He was a little nervous as to what she had to tell. He didn't think it could be good.

Rasti did sit, dangling her feet off the edge, and gestured for him to follow. "I was kidnapped," she stated without preamble. "There is this... monster... I cannot even think of it as protoss; no protoss would ever do such a thing to another. There is a monster on Aiur who lives around my home city. He rapes and murders women in the worst manner possible. They are almost unrecognizable in their... their dismemberment. And he kidnapped me for three years."

Pazura sat and patiently looked her way. Her response made him recoil in horror, his eyes widening. Rape? Murder? Among… protoss? He had accepted the animosity the Khalai had towards his people, but it was a pure anger, a righteous one. It wasn't something as insidious or sadistic as torturous murder.

And Rasti had… oh. Oh, no wonder―_poor Rasti_. He blinked rapidly, his mind still reeling from the shock and horror of what he had discovered; now concern welled in it. No wonder she had been so jumpy. Well, perhaps "jumpy" wasn't the right word―she'd been terrified of everything, and why not?

On the heels of that emotion came the last and strongest. Anger. "They… they allow such things on Aiur? They let… murderers go _free?"_

Rasti stared across the twilight landscape. "No. No one has been able to catch him. I don't know why. DNA samples come back to nothing. Physical descriptions of those who escape come back to nothing. We cannot find him within the Khala. It's like he doesn't exist."

She went on. "They said I escaped, at first. I don't remember what happened. I don't remember anything that went on during those three years. They said I escaped and my mind blocked out what had happened to me―and then they tried to go in, to see if some of my memory could be repaired to finally find him, and they couldn't. Then they thought that he let me go, but only after he erased my mind."

If she had been simply too traumatized to allow herself to remember, they would have been able to find something. They hadn't. "They thought it was a Dark Templar, at first. But physical descriptions gathered over the years made it very clear that he was Khalai, albeit one who was likely never initiated into the Khala."

Pazura's turned to regard the dark landscape of Shakuras, unconsciously mimicking Rasti's actions. Her own people had tried to help her, but they could not. He didn't blame her for becoming unhinged―if he had been similarly attacked, detained, and possibly tortured by someone as wraithlike as her tormentor, he might have begun to doubt his own sanity. It was almost as if that specter didn't even exist…

No wonder she left Aiur. She had to flee, by any means possible. "So you left Aiur." How deep her pain and fear must have been to make her abandon her ancestral home!

"Yes." She rubbed at her forearm unconsciously, looking anywhere but him. "I had to... I had to escape. The humiliation was unbearable. Can you imagine in a place where caste is so important, how they felt about a Templar-in-training who cannot be in the same room as a strange male? Who is terrified of everything? There was no place for me. I could go back as I am now, but never as a Nerazim."

"No," Pazura agreed angrily. The rigid society of Aiur had no room for "undesirables," for people who were less-than-happy for their role, or less-than-perfect at what they were predestined to do.

It was one of their own, some _Khalai_ mistake, that had done this to her, and they hadn't even the responsibility to take proper care of her.

"I'm sorry all of this happened to you," he said simply, but sincerely. "But I am glad I found you." A pause. "Not just because you were about to die―what I mean is, I'm glad that I brought you here. That they were able to help you." He was more than a little proud that his people had been able to come through for her when hers had not, but this wasn't about proving anything about Nerazim superiority. It was just about helping Rasti. He looked to her and smiled a bit. "I can't take full credit, though. It must have taken a lot of courage and know-how to steal a ship, even a small one."

Rasti laughed, her shoulders hunched and her head tilted to one side. "No, it was only luck. I didn't even plan it. I was there, being shown around by my brother's friend with the rest of my family, and there was a ship. I didn't even know I was going to steal it until I sat down at the controls. It didn't occur to me what I was doing until I had detatched from the other ship and flown away."

She looked at him, finally. "They were so startled that someone would actually do such a thing that they didn't manage to send someone after me until I left the system, and by then I had disabled the trackers so they had no idea where I was."

It was their complacency that had allowed Rasti to be hurt, and in the end, their complacency that had allowed her to get away. Pazura nodded and continued to regard her, sharing this sentiment wordlessly, brushing his mind briefly against hers.

For a while he just sat, digesting this information and all that had happened in comfortable silence with her. Then he nodded and said, "What are your plans now? You're here to stay, obviously. Have you given any thought as to what you want to do?"

Rasti replied with an equally light mind-brush, responding that that had been exactly what pushed her to be Severed. She couldn't stand such complacency, and couldn't stand being a part of something so twisted.

"Why, yes. Yes I have. I hope you still have some extra blankets."

Pazura cocked his head uncertainly. "Yes." Was all he could think of to say to that. He always kept extra.. Well, everything. She had seen his ship. It dawned on him then. "You need me to take you somewhere? You're always welcome aboard _West of Winter_, of course…" 

"Oh, I'm not 'going' anywhere." Her mind was full of mischief again. "I think you phrased it as, 'half the time, I don't even know where I'm going.'"

Pazura paused, and narrowed his eyes. The gesture was one of concentration, but the heavy-browed Dark Templar looked quite intimidating. Or, he would have, if he weren't being teased for his lack of perception. "Wait."

Another pause. "You want to… come with me?" He blinked. "On my ship?"

Before, Rasti would have certainly been intimidated. Now, she just smiled. "You're very quick," she teased solemnly. "Your ship is quite large enough to settle two."

"It is," Pazura conceded. He had never really thought about it because, well, nobody had asked. He had either traveled the stars with a small band, or utterly alone. What would it be like, traveling with one other person? Well, never mind that, what would it be like traveling with Rasti?

He turned the idea over in his head. "Well. Why not? But you do know that we'll be going well off the beaten path. It's not safe, of course. And I can't promise I'll make the best company…"

"By Adun," Rasti said, exasperated. "You are _thick_."

Pazura now drew himself up a bit. "Thick?" Had his second assumption been wrong? Did she not mean to travel with him after all? "Rasti, I don't really… I'm not _used_ to other protoss, please just come out and tell me what it is you want."

"You look better that way," Rasti replied decisively, looking him over appraisingly. "When you sit up straight. If you raise your chin, you almost look properly Templar."

Drawing her legs up, she shifted into a crouch instead of sitting and pulled the book out from under her arm. "Yes, I want to travel with you. Otherwise, you won't get this book back. And you are thick because you haven't figured out yet that I _like _you."

Pazura blinked. Dealing with her had become confusing enough, but then she blindsided him with a compliment and just made everything even more confusing. He wasn't sure whether to thank her or take mild offense.

That soon became the last of his worries. "Oh. Oh." His eyes widened comically. "You… oh. Well." He couldn't think of anything to say except, "I don't mind if you want to come along, Rasti." He began to hunch again, and reached under his mask to scratch at his cheek.

She… liked him. Pazura knew other females, some of whom were friends, but it wasn't often that someone showed interest in him. "Well, that's. Well." He finished intelligently.

"Stop that," she said, grabbing his wrist again. "Now, I'm going with you. You're not leaving without me. You don't have to suddenly love me; those things take time. But." She raised the book. "Else, you're not getting _this_."

Pazura's eyes half-hooded themselves in an expression of amusement and he looked between his hand and her book. He was making a mess of this. He heaved a mental sigh, closed his eyes, and just thought for a few seconds, gathering his wits about him and choosing his words carefully.

He drew himself up to his full height again, assuming a speech-giving air, and opened his eyes. "I don't mind that you want to come with me. You don't have to threaten me with a book, you know."

A slight smile. "And I don't mind that you… like me. I hadn't thought about, er, you, in that _way_," he fumbled, "but I don't… mind the thought of thinking about you in that way."

He paused, briefly mulling over his words before he declared, "That _did_ make sense, right?"

"Yes," she agreed. "Yes, it did." She smiled back and released his wrist. "I can threaten you with a book all I want." She reached over to thump him on the head with it.

She _would_ have.

In a whispering swirl of fabric Pazura ducked out of the way of the book, and in another he had snatched it out of her hand. He had moved with absurd speed for someone so large, and now held the tome in one hand, cocking his head. "First rule of traversing the Void," he offered it back to her, "books are not weapons." He smiled.

"_Anything _is a weapon," Rasti replied loftily, carefully hiding the surprise of his movements behind a smile. She tossed the book back at him, then as he went to catch it ducked under his arm and aimed a punch at his midsection. Such a blow was useless, especially to the muscular protoss, but that wasn't the point of her play-fighting.

Pazura was reaching up to catch the book, and wasn't really expecting Rasti to suddenly lunge forward like that. She punched him, for all the good it would do―beneath the loose clothing, she would find Pazura particularly muscular. His impressive physique didn't fit his meek and thoughtful demeanor. "Hey!"

He was uncertain as to how to proceed. He wouldn't mind a little bit of sparring, especially since he'd seen her move so quickly, but now that he knew what had happened to her… he didn't want to fight her, and then accidentally trigger some buried, traumatic surge of fear. So he just stood there after she punched him, blinking like an idiot. 

"Plenty of time for that later," he decided, stepping back. They would need to set some ground rules if they ever decided to do serious sparring. "When do you wish to leave?" 

Rasti pulled back, chuckling, and took the book from him again. "Whenever you want to. If you want to stay and visit Shakuras a bit, that's fine. If you want to leave immediately, that's fine too."

"I'm for leaving as soon as possible," he replied with a shrug. He only intended to stay on Shakuras long enough to formally thank everyone who had helped her recover, and restock on some supplies. Now that he knew he was taking a passenger with him, he supposed that he would have to stay a little longer to make sure they were prepared. He didn't mind.

"Hm. I don't really have any place suitable for a guest room. I could clear out one of the cargo rooms… uh… would you mind staying in the greenhouse until I do?"

"Not a problem," Rasti replied. "Your quarters too small for two?" she asked, laughing. "Come! Let us get some supplies. I've already packed up everything I own. It's very small."

Pazura shook his head, not visibly becoming flustered by her tease. He first went to speak with the protoss he intended to thank, and then set about helping Rasti get her things loaded, as well as extra supplies. The clutter in his ship had been rearranged since she had last been inside, but that made it no less cluttered.

The greenhouse was also fuller―there were fresh plants growing out of many new wall niches, though it was still not nearly full. He helped her spread the blankets. "You're sure you'll be comfortable down here?"

"Oh, yes. I'm not petrified by the dark anymore," she replied, studying their handiwork. "I was comfortable enough last time, anyhow. Do we need anything else?"

He paused a did a quick mental tally. Plenty of water, and a few spare parts he'd been meaning to pick up―though it was not necessary, he'd traded with the technician for those―two lights and a backup, in case something went wrong, some extra cloth in case he needed additional clothing, and of course he always had his armor and weapons packed away.

And he had the extra sheets for Rasti, and the water and light was more than enough to sustain her, as well. He went over his mental checklist twice before he said, "We're ready. Or, I am, if you are," he glanced to her as he strode towards the ladder. "You're sure you have everything?"

"Yes." She followed him. She was gazing at him, and unbeknowst to him, she was smiling happily. "I have everything I'll ever need."

Pazura looked over his shoulder, caught her expression, and smiled back. "Very well, then! Let's go."

Half an hour later, he was making final preparations for departure. Pazura had arrived on Shakuras only hours before intending perhaps to stay a few days and then strike out again on his own. He certainly hadn't expected this outcome.

He could say that he was sure what would happen to the two of them now. The knowledge of Rasti's… interest in him excited him a little, to say the least.

They would have to get to know one another better, of course, see if they could work as a team. He was a little anxious to see if she would even like this sort of lifestyle―somewhat aimless wanderings, chasing down rumors, seeking knowledge in paces most respected explorers didn't even think to go.

Privately, he hoped the beauty and dark mystery of these remote places touched her as they had touched him. But only time would tell. _West of Winter_ disengaged from the dock and swung out towards the boundless black, looking for, as its name suggested, something greater than the world its passengers knew.


End file.
